


Set Definitions

by GnaCat



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Reapers, F/M, Garrus is an arrogant brat because he rocks a mean sniper rifle, Nihlus hates being at war, Ongoing First Contact War, Shepard is a normal soldier with no special abilities, War Crimes, also it's his first deployment off of Palaven, and Saren just hopes they annihilate all the humans before they think of surrendering, he just wants the humans to give up already, other than a will to fight with all her might and a lot of very questionable luck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 06:19:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4554009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GnaCat/pseuds/GnaCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In short: this is an AU where turians are the dominant race in the galaxy and the humans don't accept that, so they get caught in a long and bloody war. In this setting the teams of a young femShep (24) and an even younger Garrus clash, and end up in a deadly game of cat and mouse.</p><p> </p><p>(Rating will probably change during the second or third chapter.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Game of Cats and Birds of Prey.

**Author's Note:**

> Turians are the overall dominant race and rule the galaxy alone. They treat those willing to become client races and be swallowed by the hirarchy kindly and with respect, and even allow their leaders to make descisions for their own people, though they are always informed and can intervene and overule them if they see fit. They even offer their client races quick and rather extensive aid when necessary, as they did for the quarians when the geth threatened to take over Rannoch (which they prevented btw). One of the only two races to rebel against the turian superiority are the krogan. Neutered and beaten they still refuse to bend to the will of the turian hierarchy, which resulted in krogans being forced into isolation on tuchanka. They can only leave their homeworld as indentured servants, otherwise they'd become outlawed cannon fodder. 
> 
> The second race to rise to the challange makes the most recent entry in the catalog of known species, the humans. After finally making it past the Charon Relay and out of the Sol system they find not only alien life, but their race immediately being coerced into perceived slavery. Naturally they decline the peaceful, rather enthusiastic offer to become a client race, and pretty much tell the turians to fuck off with a massive firework. This brave and equally stupid decision leads the turians to react in kind by destoying a few human colonies, displaying their power. The idea behind it was to scare the newcomers into submission before things escalate further, and letting the human leaders know that as long as they resist, innocents _will_ die in the hundreds of thousands, that the longer the humans will take to accept their fate the harder will the punishment be that they'll receive as a species when this is over. Which might actually end with humans becoming a literal slave race to the hirarchy. Dreading this fate the stubborn leaders of humanity push further into full out war instead of accepting the inevitable, still hoping to miraculously turn the tide, and keep fighting for their freedom, as well as the right to build their own future.

There were no turians supposed to be on this planet yet. 

 

Shepard was stationed on this colony world as part of a battalion to reinforce an already established defense against potential attacks, not to counter an invasion _already taking place_. They shouldn't have met any resistance here. Her platoon was informed there might be little time, but this outcome is nothing short of unexpected! There is no knowing how the turians could have already been here without giving themselves away to the local military forces, granting these alien bastards one more obvious advantage, the element of surprise. 

"SCRATCH ONE!" a dual-corded voice yells in the not so far distance and a few steps ahead her team leader Norman lands face first in the mud, a small but noticeable hole in the back of his helmet.

"Don't stop!" Carter hisses breathless from behind, knowing well enough that if they can't keep their tempo up _nobody_ will make it back to their camp and the radio. Their built in suit com-link got jammed by the turians, rendering her squad unable to get the vital information of turian forces already present back to mission command, or to warn the one hundret soldiers stationed back at the nearest base, give them a chance to prepare and call for reinforcement, or at least warn the other two batteries with which they made up former mentioned Batallion. If they couldn't that meant not only certain death for over 300 alliance marines, but also that of countless more civillians that did not sign up of this.

If only their captain would have reported back in between checkpoints her squad would have noticed that they were being jammed a little sooner, she thought. Maybe this could have been avoided! But nobody anticipated this, who would have imagined such strong turian presence in this sector, on such a small colony, they didn't expect any _at all, not yet!_ It should have been impossible! And how could it be that there were no signs before it was too late?

She almost trips when her boot get's stuck in the thick cold muck, too lost in thought to concentrate on her feet, and Carter bumps into her, almost pushing her down in an effort not to fall and to keep a grip on his assault rifle, but hellbent on not letting it slow him down, "Come on Shep-!" a loud bang interrupts him, this time she sees the face when the bullet hits through the visor. Her team member makes contact with the ground, and for a short moment she's paralyzed. That round was meant for her, if she wouldn't have tri-

"SNIPED THAT ONE!" it shouts smugly from behind and makes her stomach churn with crippling fear and hot white hatred. Shaking hands take a firm grip of her own rifle as she hectically pulls her boot free and turns around, mindlessly screaming her wordless anger at the scrubs she blindly fires into. Why?! How could this-?! This wasn't supposed to be-

"What are you doing Shepard?! Fuck, run!" Kumar finally catches up with her, he must have already seen Norman's body and only pays little attention to the lifeless Carter. The adrenaline rushing through his veins forces his body forward fast. "Move!" he grabs his teammates arm, pulls her forward a step while turning around and throwing a warp into the underbrush behind them, before letting go in favor of furthering his own survival as he tries to pick up speed again.

A few quick looks back and forth, if she doesn't keep focused now it's all over. She quickly pulls herself together to keep up with him, lungs aflame, and muscles burning equally brutal, determined to push herself past any limits to make this count, even if it kills her.

It looks like only the two of them are left now, the two youngest members of their squad. Kumar was probably even the youngest in the whole batallion stationed here. Another gunshot hits a tree close to Kumar, and the teenager in front of her reacts with a desperate rage-scream as he throws another wall of evershifting biotic blue behind them. They already slowed down considerably, must have been running for hours now, hiding to initiate little firefigths whenever good cover was available. She feels she can't possibly hold out much longer, and from what it looks like Kumar feels the same. They can only hope that their alien pursuers aren't fairing much better. If there was ever the time to pray, she thought this was it.

Last week they got send out as part of a platoon to scout the area, split into 3 squads they were to report the safety status of several registered villages back to the base. Their only job was to give their tacticans an idea of how and where to build strategically valuable, reinforced outposts in the area and make emergency evacuation plans for the resident colonists. Each squad made up of 12 marines Shepard was part of one that marched up nne (north north-east) through the surreal, swamp-like forest covering big parts if of this planets southern hemisphere.  
Half a day ago the squad broke up in 3 teams, after they got spotted by a group of about 20 turians that had build their camp in a marauded village, one from the checklist, and were forced to leave the mako behind.

If they'd have stayed together they would have been one big target, easy to round up and finish off, so the squad leader quickly assigned them into two distraction teams, and one objective team that was to make it out of range of that jammer. Even if they wouldn't be able to _return_ with the information, they were determined to at least _deliver_ it.

Shepard was part of the second distraction team. It took the turians that followed her team about 4 hours to chase them down to the point where their exhaustion outweighed the disadvantage the long-limbed aliens seem to have had in the terrain. 

"Shit-!" her shoulder catches on a slim young tree and as she stumbles. She hears more than sees the bullet hit wood close to hear head. Instinctively Shepard falls into a quick sideroll before she risks to check over her shoulder. Despite finding that there is still nothing to see in the dense boscage she continues to just fire into the general direction she suspects the sniper to hide in. Hoping to stall the enemy if nothing else, fire until the weapon overheats, prouring her last power reserves into this last stance. Yet she can't quell the feeling of being played with. Being engaged in a game of cat and mouse, and standing on the short end.

Her weapon overheats far too quickly. A spark flies from it, indicates an outside influence, and sends her cursing while doing her best to roughly make out where it came from. Briefly she begs some higher force that maybe it could let the other two teams fair better as she starts to run again. Shepard knows she won't make it out of this mess, the moment they were spotted their life was basically forfeit. Now the only question left to clear is whether or not her sacrifice will be in vain.

A shocked yell somewhere up front sends a cold shiver down her back. Kumar. Strengthening her resolve to hold out as long as possible she forces her body further past it's limits, clenching her assault rifle harder to her chest, heaving in another labored breath. Just a little further, a little longer! If she just makes it a-

"SHEPARD!" he cries, deadly terror distressfully evident in his voice. It's like the sounds drove a knife between her ribs, but she doesn't stop. If she stops to help the teenager now that alien scum will have them both within one or two minutes tops! 

And they are only a distraction as long as they stay alive. 

Trying to focus on the needs of the many instead of the betrayal Kumar must feel about now she turns sharp right, continuing straight forward no longer being an option, ignoring her comrades screeching voice that is suddenly interrupted by a gunshot. What follows is horrid silence. All that's left is the noise of wind in the massive leaves of the strange native trees, the squelching of boots in the mud, and Spepard's own heavy breathing.

She desperately tries to swallow the dry lump forming in her throat as she jumps over a massive tree trunk hanging inches over the wet ground, but slips on other side, skids forwards and hits the back of her head against the trunk. She has to purposefully bite her tongue to avoid any of the treacherous noises still trapped behind her teeth from escaping.  
It takes her only a few seconds to regain control of her aching limbs, her now best friend a constant rush of adrenaline that keeps fueling her. It gives her the strength she needs to try and push herself back on unsteady feet, when she hears more than just her own boots in the wet dirt, and the second pair quickly draws closer. Closer and closer and... 

Without thought her breath stops while she presses herself back down, harder against the rotten wood, keeps her head low. It only takes a few seconds for the lack of panting and fresh air to set her chest aflame and send her head spinning.

If she gets up now, if she draws their attention it's all over. In her mind she can already picture a bullet punching a clean hole into her helmet as it enters, only to messily explode out of it's exit wound. Pictures of Norman going down right in front of her, and Carters face as he calls out to her and a whole is punched though his visor flash trough Shepards mind. Now that she is sitting still it starts to truly sink in. She will die, there is no way around that, all she can do is try to squeeze out one more minute at a time. She _will_ die out here, and she didn't achieve anything yet. This is how it will end, no matter what. There is so much more she wants to see, to do, to experience... It's too soon! This can't be it already! There has to be more! She doesn't want to go like this! Not like _this_ , not _here,_ so far away from everything good and important! She didn't survive so long just to-

The footsteps stop not far from her, the wet noise of boots squelching in deep slush is replaced by the sound of an omni-tool about to light up, followed a high pitched ticking noise. 

Kumar, Carter, Norman... They are dead. They will never come home again, and they had so much more to lose than she does. Norman had 5 children to raise by himself, his wife died from cancer 7 years ago, constantly talks about them. And Shepard, together with Carter's other friends, had only just recently celebrated that Carter's longtime girlfriend finally said yes, became his fiance before they shipped out, the guy is crazy about her. And Kumar... Oh god, he just turned 19, his parents wanted him to become a doctor so badly, but he said felt he was meant to be a marine, to fight for what's right side by side with brave comrades- What must have gone through _his head_ when he was screaming her name, before _the bullet_ did.

Without a warning a foot hits the log above her and the humanoid creature leaps over her head with the grace of a big cat. The big, graceful alien cat slips and skids forward like Shepard only a few moments prior, however other than her the bastard is quick to adjust and uses the momentum of his jump to lean forward and run a few more unsteady steps on the slippery ground. The long limbs and bulky, topheavy armor get caught in the underbrush. The twigs easily break with the force applied, yet still seem to be annoying as he starts to swat them away as finally balance is regained and this tall, imposing looking alien comes to a stop. The turian is noticeably having an eye out for her but not seeing the obvious yet, armor covered in mud, more so than Shepard's or that of her comrades.

Stunned into a the intake of a deep breath by the sudden chance offering itself Shepard watches his back and short-circuits before the cold shiver creeping down her back subsides. She lifts her weapon and aims.

The rapid bullet fire hits his kinetic shields hard when she finally allows herself to breathe again and he quickly ducks into cover. Shepard barely sees his omni-tool light up as it is pointed in her direction, and hastily tries to jump back over the tree trunk, attempting to find some cover herself on the other side. Her weapon overheats from the sabotage before she touches ground again, and without delay a few brisk rounds from his pistol are deflected by her own shields before she can finally duck out of harms way. 

It's hard to hold back the tears as every loud gasp is like gaseous acid accumulating in her chest, biting through the tissue of her lungs while she's busy blinking away the dangerous haziness. This pistol is not what she fears right now, the tech-attacks are an annoyance that easily limits her movements, but she can deal with that if she can stay sharp and careful. As long as she has enough cover to let her shields regenerate in between runs the turian won't be able to take them down easily. Not with that little thing or his omni-tool, since letter should be too busy keeping her assault rifle overheated. No, what she needs to be most wary of is that sniper ri-

A sharp pain rips through her right shoulder and the force of it hurls Shepard's body against the log, the pain is enough to block out everything else. She didn't even hear the gunshot. A short yell makes it out of her in shock before she falls on her side, clutching at her bleeding shoulder with one shaking hand, the exposed part of her face is pressed into the wet dirt, her mouth and eyes wide open as she tries to overcome the pain and outrage over her own stupid mistake. It takes all her remaining willpower not to scream.

"YES! I love this rifle!" it laughs from behind her and the other one jumps back over the formerly protective cover to her side, quickly kicking Shepard's gun away from her.

"Good one, Vakarian. It's not dead yet though." the one next to her comments while the other quickly jogs towards them. He is just as covered in slick dirt as his team mate, their strange alien faces both hidden behind just as oddly shaped helmets, disabling Shepard from keeping them apart.

"I thought we were supposed to bring one back alive, and there _were_ only four. Wouldn't want you to get into trouble with the Commander." he shrugs and checks his massive rifle.

"How thoughtful of you." the one next to her snorts and sounds almost sarcastic as he looks back down at the panting and twitching human in the mud to his feet, "Seems like you're getting used to it quicker than expected."

"What can I say? I'm gifted." is the rifled turian's smug response. The one next to Shepard chuckles as he picks up her weapon and she chokes in her agony. She lifts her hand from the wound, growing dizzier by the second and tries to reach for the medigel on her belt, but he steps on her wrist with ease, and hard enough to force her to cry out. For a second she thinks she might faint. 

"Spitirs, Vakarian, confidence is good but arrogance will trip you up." He looks up from his strange two-clawed foot digging into her wrist, throws Shepard's rifle at the one he called Vakarian, and that's all the opportunity she needs.

Empowered by the adrenaline rushing through her, that almost seems to slow time down temporarily, Shepard kicks against the leg closest to her. And just like she did before the turian loses his footing in the slippery wet dirt a second time. The action staggers both turians for a second, just long enough to make the one she kicked fall almost atop of her while the other focuses on the sudden emergency and is hit in the chest with the weapon he was supposed to catch. He hurriedly fumbles with it in utter bewilderment, rushing to figure out which rifle to use and which to drop now.

The thought of trying to mount and kill the one in the muck with a nearby rock makes a short appearance in her head, but she's already running out of time. She can only use one arm, and the other turian is likely to regain control of whichever weapon and shoot her any moment now. Her shoulder throbs hot and with clenched teeth she pushes herself to her knees, wet heat pulsing harder out of the bullet wound with every big movement.

 _RUN!_

She slips around in the mud yet ends up on her feet faster than expected, only to get knocked down by a big, slim hand powerfully yanking her ankle backwards. She howls like an animal when her damaged shoulder hits the ground with all her falling weight crushing into it. This can't be it! _This is not it! Not yet!_ Attempting to push herself away from the turian that tries to pull her back towards him on one trembling arm Shepard kicks at his creepy weird hand again, teeth clenched and tears in her eyes. She's going to kill them both! Fuck turians! Fuck death! If there is anything she's ever been good at it's refusing to die, today can't be the day- NO! He climbs over her faster than she can register, her slow motion moment of power runs out of juice as his weight selltes in the small of her back.  
A strong fist slams down into her wounded shoulder and this time she outright screams. Screams until she runs out of air, and even then it takes immense effort before she can force more oxygen into her abused lungs only to continue to scream and yowl, repeatedly choking on her own voice and tears while trying to curl in on herself. For a moment Shepard thinks he stabbed her, severed her arm from her shoulder at the joint, and she can't repress the shuddering sobs as the world around her disappears behind a veil of red blinding pain.

"Shit, are you alright? Sorry, I didn't-"

"It's nothing, Vakarian." Shepard barely registers how one helps the other up. "I didn't think it would still have so much... bite. Shows what I know about humans, you should learn from this, never underestimate the ingenuity of humans. If you can kill one do it quick and don't hesitate, don't give them a chance to adapt." the Vakarian one nods slowly and directs the barrel of Shepard's own weapon at her.

The other one sighs as he wipes the slimy brown from the visor of his helmet, "That's just great..." and lifts his arm to use his omni-tool once again, this time to contact his people. 

"Kryik here. We're done with our hostiles. Left one human alive in case you were too clumsy to get one yourself. How about the others?" Shepard's translator has trouble to pick up and filter the response, which shifts her distorted attention to the other turian.

"Just tell me whether or not we need it, I will not go through the trouble of bringing it back just for your entertainment." Kryik retorts and seems to get a clear answer this time. "Understood. We'll be back around sundown." the light of his omni-tool flickers and dies. "Let's wrap this up then."

The other turian keeps Shepard's assault rifle pointed at her head. There is a moment of silence as if they are waiting for something. She grinds her teeth hard, fighting for some kind of control over her body. If they think she'll avert her eyes and take it, or plead for mercy they might as well wait for ballet dancing Krogan to break the tension, because that will never happen. And if all hell would break loose, as long as there's still fight in her she'll never-!

"I w-won't beg- fff-for my- my life." she hisses before gasping for air once more, attempting to keep in a pathetic moan as she presses her hand harder on the still bleeding wound, and struggles to keep staring into the dark visors of their helmets, unable to decide which one to concentrate on, and hoping desperately they take notice of her glaring. She won't go down whimpering and- 

BANG! 

She instinctively but uselessly yelps and tries to curl up in an effort to protect her organs, barely able to control her shaking limbs enough for even that, and waiting for more pain to tear into her that just doesn't come. He didn't even try to shoot her. He just aimed at the ground next to her, but she gave him the desired reaction anyway, displayed the fear she truly feels but seeks to keep hidden with all her might. One of them has the nerve to let out a short taunting laugh at the sight of her reaction.

"You'll p-p-!" she interrupts her self to pant in another quick breath "-Pay for this, tu- turi- -an... s-sscum!" she spits at them and her shouting compels her to cough. At this point she is convinced her arm is really about to fall off, if only she'd pass out from the pain already, then she wouldn't have to fight so hard anymore. Every waking second feels like neverending torture, tearing into her militancy and digging for the pliant parts of her personality that beg her to give up already. But as long as her body can keep her concious there is no other choice but to throw whatever little resistance she can still offer at them.

One of the aliens gives her a kick in the wounded shoulder and she wails through her clenched teeth, the force of it rolls her from her side onto her back. Her body spasms violently as she struggles for breath, becomes lightheaded.

They stare at her for a moment as everything spins and blurs together. One of them replies with a dry, "I highly doubt that." followed by a kick into her side that makes her retch, wish they'd just shoot her already, and then finally everything goes dark.


	2. The Varren that swallowed the Pyjack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nihlus Pov. Dealing with the spunky idiot human, reporting back, and planning ahead. A turian Veterans view of things (trying not to throw too much information at you all at once though).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, this is not proofread, I originally planned to upload this with pictures (mostly character pictures because there are a bunch of turians in the camp and I bet nobody will be able to keep them apart by name, so I figured I'd add faces to the mix to make things easier. I'm stuck with their armor though (Turian armor is fucking impossible to draw!) and not sure about most of their tattoos.
> 
> This chapter basically sets the stage for everything to come, and gives insight in the turian point of view. Obviously we see things from Nihlus eyes here, so not everything is objective. Might be good to remember Nihlus shallow relationship to his collegues and high opinion of cocky young Garrus. And yeah, from the outside Garrus makes a pretty smug and arrogant impression. Keep in mind that he is pretty young and very talented, things still go to his head easily. He still has to figure out a lot of stuff, life is tougher than he knows yet.

At last Nihlus's heart rate slows down to something more normal. Not that it rose too much during the chase, but it's not like hours of running and avoiding gunfire paired with a few well placed biotic attacks are ever really easy to handle. Horados will probably agree with him on that.  
Nihlus's eyes wander over to his pupil of the day, who appears to be more strained.

It's not hard to notice how stiff the younger one got after their wild little package brought his mentor down to eye level with it, rolling in the mud, a last desperate struggle against what it had to believe would be certain death.  
And that assumption isn't entirely wrong. The moment it went down the human's fate was sealed. Whether it has information or not, whether it will give it up to them or not, doesn't matter. It will only influence the amount of torture the alien will have to endure before his commander decides it's time. The human will be executed no matter how much fighting spirit it has left by then, or how cooperative it may be.

Though Nihlus can't quite imagine this one to be all that useful, it didn't appear to be the leader of this team, and it didn't seem to lack fighting spirit either. Anyway, the troublesome soldier is definitely out cold for now, yet Vakarian still can't quite take his eyes off of it, nor stop aiming at its head. The shock of the unexpected counter-attack might still be a little much for someone with as little actual combat experience as him. As far as he knows Vakarian only ever fought close quarters under supervision, no real risk there.

Nihlus is pretty sure that by now the boy- no, it's young man now -that he regrets his brash decision to take a prisoner, even though the orders the older one gave him when they started their pursuit demanded quite the contrary. 

It wasn't in Nihlus plan to bring anyone other than Horados back with them, he just wanted the alien nuisance gone as fast as possible. They all have a job to do on this planet, and it's vital they do it quickly and efficiently.  
When rushing after the retreating alliance troopers he decided to take a dangerously small team with him, and even had to leave an injured soldier behind to get to this point. He made all these decisions with one purpose in mind. Efficiency. The others back in the camp would need all help they could get to complete the mission objective before the human Alliance might want to investigate the case of their missing marines. 

Besides, even if it took longer and was riskier to hunt in a smaller team, they had the time to wear the bothersome humans down. If their camp, or base, or landing zone, or whatever was anywhere near them his commander would have notified Nihlus _before_ that small scout team got the chance to get close enough to kill. And if the Alliance would have already been aware of the turian presence here they'd have shown up in numbers large enough to take them out in one swift attack without even giving them the chance to react. Or, well, at least that's how Nihlus would have done it. One can't argue against a blow delivered with overwhelming force. It always works. 'If you gotta throw a punch, make sure it's one hell of a punch, don't let your opponent get back up and retaliate.'

And he's convinced he could have taken care of a team consisting of 4 panicked marines on his own. Yet he could not let this opportunity slip to test the kids performance in this kind of rushed pursuit. Luckily his commander thought just the same, and with the exchange of a few looks the youngsters got the chance to prove themselves. A pretty good exercise, call it a pressure test if you want. Laevitis, Vakarian, and Lupilinus. Albiso stayed behind for obvious reasons. And seeing as Nihlus's current ' _responsibility_ ' often seems to be one of the smarter guys of the bunch it was hard to see this mess coming, even though he probably should have...

He didn't count on the over-eagerness of his oh so bright pupil. Vakarian knows that if possible Nihlus usually leaves the taking of prisoners to a different team, and there are two more out there that surely have that covered. Yet it's not often that the order to take humans alive is given in the first place and it's probably the first time the young man by his side heard it. It was a chance Vakarian's pride wouldn't let slip from his fingers like that. Something he thought was a great idea at the time, even if it meant he had to right out ignore Nihlus's orders. 

Now his body language speaks of simple regret. Next time Vakarian will think thrice before acting on his whims so impetuously.

A good lesson to learn early. A lesson Vakarian should have learned a year ago, right after boot. Yet it's not necessarily a bad thing he didn't. This trait of making his own decisions, forgoing orders to do something he thinks is likely to bear richer fruit, in Nihlus's eyes it can be a virtue. A virtue that needs to be carefully pruned to become useful in the future, and one that the hierarchy would never encourage to grow in the first place.

A virtue that forced Nihlus's own career into early stagnation way before he reached his own potential. It's frustrating, yet despite that he intends to nurture this trait in the young man in front of him anyway. It's not very likely anyone else will if Nihlus doesn't. 

Which doesn't mean he won't let the boy own his mistakes properly. It was a calculated risk that the younger one took here and it didn't pay off. A deprecating stare as soon as they get back to camp and the helmets come off, coupled with the duties this decision will bring him and the occasional disapproving commentary to remind him of this embarrassing failure on his part should do well enough to let him know it wasn't worth it. Nihlus won't let him live it down until he feels the younger one truly learned his lesson. And overall the fact that now it's Vakarian's job to-

"What now?" Vakarian interrupts his superiors train of thought and bobs the barrel of the alien assault rifle towards the motionless human as if to point out it hasn't vanished into thin air yet.

"Make a wild guess." Nihlus replies with a puff and squats down to loosen the strap of the damaged shoulder plate their prisoner wears. A short look and Nihlus is sure that the boy did a nice job in taking the human out. It's definitely not Vakarian's fault that the human was still able to move. Though he is certain this level of accuracy is often still a result of chance, humans roll around a lot to dodge, and Nihlus has to be fair, Vakarian missed more often than he hit today, thanks to a nervous trigger finger and a lack of patience. One can't blame a young man for that on his first actual hunt on sentient turianoid targets though. It's exciting when it's all new.

It doesn't need much guessing for Nihlus to figure out that the weirdly shaped small bottle on it's belt contains a first aid fluid of some sort. It was one of the first things the human tried to reach for after realizing what had happened to it. He turns the bottle over once or twice in his fingers, while eying the instructions in strange human letters that the translator doesn't pick up on just yet before the use becomes clearer. "Get down here. You want to take it back with us, then you'll have to take care of it."

Vakarian seems taken aback. A slightly nervous twitch in his even further stiffening muscles gives him away. It doesn't come as a surprise to Nihlus. 

Yes, the kid is trained for combat, he knows how to kill humans, he studied their anatomy and weak spots like everyone else that got dragged into this ugly war.  
Maybe even autopsied one, considering that during his own time in boot Nihlus and his comrades had to dissect living Krogan. That was just a few years before the relay 314 incident, back then Krogan- even though brought under control already -were the biggest perceived threat for galactic peace. A place on the pedestal that demands utmost attention and is occupied by the human race for now. It is very likely that all the youngsters cut humans to pieces for anatomy studies while in boot these days. Learning where to aim, what to cut, and where to hit, which in a humans case turns out to be pretty much anywhere.

Taking care of a humans wounds though, keeping one alive... That's quite a different topic in comparison. 

Vakarian is visibly hesitant, attempts to stow the humans rifle on his back but can't quite bring himself to point the barrel away from its head yet. If time wasn't blood right now Nihlus would react rather amused to his pupils insecurity. But since the young man decided to take a prisoner on his own Nihlus would make him take responsibility, and teach him how to handle the full consequences of a decision like that.

" _Now_ Vakarian, or it'll bleed out. I radioed we'd be back with a prisoner, don't make me correct that." he grunts and the younger ones uncertainty only grows. 

When the young man replies there is an underlining tone of annoyance. He probably thought that if he just left a human alive for transport Nihlus would take care of the rest. "I just hit the right shoulder, it wouldn't bleed out that fast. It was a damn near perfect shot, and I don't-"

"Well that's great, good job kid. Have some candy." the tension in his pupils shoulders only rises at the sassy comeback. "It's a _human_ , their bones are thicker than ours but humans are overall _softer_ , similar to asari. And as adaptive as they are they're not as resilient as formerly mentioned thicker bones suggests."

" _But-_ "

"No _buts_ , Vakarian. What's it gonna be. Changed your mind?" Nihlus voice unmistakeably states that he will not stand for any more childish excuses.

The young ones fingers give the rifle a good slow stroke, as if to calm the weapons nerves. One more steadying breath and the alien rifle lands compressed to traveling size on his back, it's a standard alliance model M-23 Avenger that they've both been confronted with time and time again. He squats on the other side of the human only a second later, waiting for instructions, yet still visibly agitated faced with the task at hand.

"Relax." Nihlus offers a breathy laugh in response, does his best to ease up a little. It's not like he doesn't understand that this is a big moment for him, but the extent of importance Vakarian attaches to the event is ridiculous. It's not like this is the first time he sees a living human. In fact he's been surrounded by a seemingly endless supply of humans from the moment they were deployed, though the rookies usually didn't get to actually handle any of them directly.

Finally Vakarian replies with a nod and gives the human another once-over, yet still doesn't seem to know where to start. Following the direction the young man's dark, reflective face plate points in Nihlus eventually comes to the conclusion that Vakarian ends up staring at it's head, probably the exposed lower half of it's face. The mud still stuck on it doesn't help to cover up the disturbing lack of mandibles and the strange, plush ... uh, what do aliens call it again... lips? It's without doubt a fascinating view, yet kind of creepy, Nihlus admits to himself. 

The other turian decides to reach for the humans helmet first. Nihlus barely realizes the intention in time to slap his hand away and wait for Vakarian to realize what he did wrong.

"Right." the youngster mumbles after a short moment of musing and starts to quickly but thoroughly frisk the human for secondary weaponry and hidden surprises. He finds a short dark blade strapped against its calf, and the grenade slots on its belt as empty as the weapon slots on the back. 

Nihlus had gotten most of the human teams weaponry to jam under the constant bombardment of tech attacks, leaving them no choice but to toss the useless extra weight and switch to another weapon. The older turian can't help but feel a little proud of the fact that he made this exemplar strip its defense down to the last gun. He really did exhaust their resources.

After making sure for one last time that there is nothing else to find, Vakarian's hands go in for the helmet again and he promptly receives the same treatment as before. The young man shakes his hand, a silent question of 'why?' hanging in the air. Nihlus simply points towards the humans shoulder. "Identify."

"Oh spir- Sir, this _really_ isn't-"

"Fine, suit yourself. How about I go ahead then and take a look at Horados. If you don't catch up with me in an hour I'll come back for you, but don't you dare show your face to me with a dead hu-" 

"Okay okay! Damn..." the boy lifts a hand to uselessly scratch at the back of his helmet. Doing ones own thing, okay, but he has to learn when it's the smart thing to do, and when he is just being stubborn. Right now he's being stubborn.

Vakarian doesn't manage to suppress an exasperated groan. He leans over the human, hands hovering over its upper body for a short moment, considering the task more seriously before shaking fingers make a decision and firmly grip the right upper arm, another hand pushed under its back to roll it on its side. He thumbs some mud off the bigger exit wound. "Through-and-through wound. Anatomy suggests it shattered a least part of the joint. Blood loss looks to be considerable, but no major arteries injured."

"How do you know that?"

"Because it's the right shoulder." Vakarian huffs as if that was an obvious answer. Nihlus waits for him to follow that up somehow, but when nothing comes he snaps and smacks him over the helmet.

"OW! WHAT THE-"

"Focus." They stare into each others dark, reflecting visors for a moment before Vakarian decides he'd rather stop messing around and be done with it before the older one actually looses his patience with him.

"Other than the fact that if a major artery was ruptured it would have bled out already... The bleeding hasn't subsided, but it's slow and steady rather than pulsing, which indicates venous bleeding rather than arterial." he dips two fingers in the red puddle in the mud and rubs it against his thumb. "Most of it looks rather dark too, definitely more venous blood. That kind of bleeding is slower and easier to control. Also, the human heart is located on the left side within the chest, so hitting the left shoulder is usually a death sentence even if you miss the heart by a mile, though not an immediate kill. The right shoulder is a safe spot an-"

"There is no 'safe spot' to shoot a human. There is always the chance that they bleed out, even though the general layout of their body looks to be the same in all of them you should never feel too sure. Humans are far more diverse than you can imagine. They _are_ rather sturdy, but don't count on it." He sighs and hands the kid the bottle. "Pour that into the wound. Don't be surprised, I've seen this stuff applied before and it foams a good deal when it gets into contact with open wounds."

He nods and fumbles with it, confused about how to open the alien looking container and Nihlus can't help the amused flap in his mandibles. "It's designed for human hands, press down the small latch and use your thumb to pop- yeah, like that. Screw off the spray extension and just pour it generously in there." 

He leans back and watches how the younger one follows the given instructions. Despite helmet it's hard to miss that the way the light blue fluid foams and expands before it turns into stiff, translucent gel that flattens over and seals the wound kind of fascinates him. It feels like a far more advanced med-kit than one would expect from a still rather under-developed civilization like that of humanity. 

The human twitches on the ground and before Nihlus gets a chance to tell Vakarian to focus on the human rather than the blue goo, the boy already proceeds to turn the human around and gives the exit wound the same treatment, one hand firmly gripping the humans arm, ready to twist it if the need arises.  
Back on it's back the human is still motionless, and finished with his priority task Vakarian slowly extends his hand towards the helmet again. A quick glance towards Nihlus that the older one doesn't react to despite clearly noticing it gives the young man all the permission he needs. 

He proceeds to touch the dark visor covering the upper half of the humans face. He leans over it just enough to look for the fasteners of the helmet and a way to remove it without breaking the humans neck. "…"

"What was that?" Nihlus isn't sure if he understood that right.

"Nothing Sir." he replies a little firmer and his fingers on the helmet work a little more frantically.

"Did you just say 'One step closer to the stars?'", he snorts at his pupils spirit of adventure. "Kind of poetic."

"I thought it was fitting..." He tries to shrug it off, clearly unwilling to show that it was an involuntary comment. Blatantly quoting the first turian in space as he unmasks the big unknown, it's childish but Nihlus can't help but agree that on a way smaller scale it's truly fitting.

"I hope you're embarrassed." he taunts and takes a deep breath. Well at least Vakarian is enthusiastic. It could be worse, but the eagerness that returns into the youngsters movements is a bit troubling.

Maybe he shouldn't give the kid the opportunity to turianize the human in his mind. He is barely an adult, it's not unheard of young turians forming attachments to prisoners, no matter the species. It might have something to do with the whole system of the hierarchy and citizen tiers itself, and how utterly helpless and rankless a prisoner tends to be. Just another grunt. But this is different. It's not like this is actually Vakarian's prisoner, and it's the first time he tried to render someone incapable instead of plain dead. Not letting him have this moment of removing the helmet would be-

Suddenly his pupil squawks and as he shakes the offending five fingered hand off of his wrist he smacks the human over the helmet, hard, effectively sending himself flailing and falling backwards, slipping from his heels onto the muddy ground. Nihlus barely bites back a laugh as he grabs the humans suddenly rather active good arm with one hand and presses his other carefully against it's shoulder. He watches the strange asari-like mouth fall open in a noisy gasp and reveal those flat almost compressed looking teeth. 

The human goes immediately limp, the attempts to kick and punch anything within in range stop, as if wordlessly begging for mercy aware enough of the situation to dread the impending doom. The quiet sobbing that bubbles from it's throat tells him that the gel didn't numb the shoulder wound. Or at least not enough. He bends further over the human and slowly puts more of his weight on the hand resting on the shattered joint. The pathetic noises quickly rise in volume and intensity, and the struggle begins anew. His eyes are fixed on whatever little bit of it's face he can catch through their combined layers of visor, trying to make eye contact.

"Will you behave?" Nihlus growls at it, doing his best to sound dangerous and imposing. He is aware that humans think of turians as menacing, dangerous predators. There supposedly is a similarity to several dangerous beasts native to their home-world, the looks of which he can barely imagine. Somewhat annoying when he puts more thought into it, possibly insulting, but in this case it comes to his advantage. 

Or so he thought. Without warning the human spits on his helmet and starts to kick again, less frantically but with more strength this time. It even tries to uselessly press the uninjured arm up and with it him out of its personal space, throwing its roundish head from one side to the other. For a moment he tries to wrestle it into submission but when a knee hits the armor on his thigh hard enough to actually push him he has enough. With a sigh he leans in further, pushes down on the injury, "Have it your way then, human." and immediately a shrill scream pierces the stream of pained moans and picks up a notch before the human finally goes limp again and Nihlus deems it safe to shift his weight off of its shoulder.

He stands up and stretches his muscles for a second when he realizes the young one is still sitting in the muck. Probably shocked, Nihlus thinks. Instinctively he rubs over his helmet to get rid of the saliva probably stuck somewhere there. He actually suspected the human might make a comeback once it's wounds were treated and the pain wasn't quite so overwhelming anymore, but from the looks of it Vakarian didn't.

"You had four to choose from, and you have to leave the feisty little beast alive." Nihlus sneers while Vakarian tries to get on his toes, finding that once one is down it is hard to find good footing in the mud. 

"It's the smallest of this team, I thought it would be easier to handle." he excuses his actions, feeling defensive after the baseless accusation. Nihlus is well aware that there is no knowing how easy to handle someone is before you catch them. They had bad luck with this one is all. Or maybe good luck. Maybe the other three would have been even worse. They'll never find out now. More importantly though:

"Okay Vakarian, what's easier to handle? An asari, or a volus?" He finally manages to get up and gives Nihlus a look, what kind of look the older one can't say but he probably feels underestimated about now.

"The volus." He's curious enough to play along, yet doesn't bother to hide the indignation swinging within his sub-vocals.

"And between an elcor and a krogan?" Vakarian falls into his word before the older one can manage to close his mouth.

"The elcor, but you can't compare that! They are completely different species and-!"

"That's _exactly_ the point. I told you before that humans are absurdly diverse in all categories. Some of these categories so alien you cannot even imagine. You shouldn't try to categorize them all as one under the banner of humanity, it will limit you in your operational capability during combat." Nihlus makes a point of stressing that last part, effectively silencing the young man and for once getting him to think before he speaks. Another trait Nihlus will have to drill into that thick head.

He sighs quietly and notices how Vakarian's attention shifts back to the seemingly lifeless human between them, apparently in deep thought.  
So much talent at such a young age, all this potential in front of him, it would be a waste to just let him go through the regular stages of adaptation to snugly fit into the hierarchy, and let him grow up to be ordinary.

"So I should treat them as a jack of all traits?" is the young man's skeptic reply, his eyes still fixed on the small example in front of him.

"A jack of indeterminate traits." Nihlus corrects. "Never rule anything out with a human you don't know." not that he thinks either of them will ever get acquainted closer with a human for however long this war lasts.

"... but in boot they..." Vakarian trails off and his mentor can practically hear it click when the young man realizes what Nihlus just tried to get across.

"The hierarchy may want our best, but sometimes we know better just _how_ to give back the best we have. That might not make you climb the citizen tiers as fast, but I'm certain it will save more lifes along the line." Vakarian gives a reluctant nod, before his mentor continues.  
"A good turian who gets a bad order, might complain, but he follows it. And I've seen enough good dead turians to last me a lifetime..." Nihlus lets out a heavy sigh and closes the distance between them, pats the kids shoulder. "Now pick up the prisoner and get moving, I want to be back in time for some well-earned disgusting prepackaged dinner."

"I hate field rations." a response almost muttered under his breath, as if not meant for Nihlus to hear. Slowly the boy squats back down and tries to pick up his human luggage without losing his balance again, a rather comical sight.

"Who doesn't."

*

"A prisoner?" Amuter Horados gives the two turians a baffled look as they walk up to him, quite aware that this isn't Nihlus style.

"Vakarian's idea." Nihlus states almost sounding a little bitter, and despite the curiosity that the other doesn't quite contain he decides against poking further, pushing himself up before Nihlus can extend a hand, or worse, try to pick him up.

"Ooh, your first prisoner I guess?" Horados inquires and Vakarian nods. The red tattoos on his dark face stretch as he honestly smiles at the rookie, mandibles spreading wide for a moment. He takes a hand off his bleeding side to slap the boy's back, leaving a bloody blue stain on the shoulder piece of the armor. "Congratulations, Garrus. You've come a long way, huh?"

"I guess." Vakarian doesn't seem too attentive, almost lost in thought. 

"Haha, just wait til Cana hears that, he'll fume with jeal-"

"Aren't you injured?" Nihlus interrupts Horados who gets the hint and quiets down. Vakarian will only start to overthink things and fall back into his usual patterm when Cana Albiso is mentioned. He dreads the idea that now that Albiso was mentioned Vakarian might remember their earlier mishap and plan ahead to cause more trouble upon arrival. 

Thinking about it, maybe Vakarian just thought about ruffling his plates like a Gjadag in season when he aimed for the humans shoulder. He had quite the argument with Albiso this morning after the youngsters were excluded from executing the villagers, it only made sense that Vakarian would seek to show off now. Nihlus can't help but feel exhausted thinking about what the other young braggart might have done back in camp. These two really shouldn't have been put in the same unit. 

Despite being on the same team and in the same situation these two just tend to constantly stir each other into shenanigans. Troublemakers to the bone the moment they set eyes on each other. Something Nihlus as well as some of their other superiors had tried to stop, yet never succeeded in it for long. From the outside one could mistake these young men for good friends, which might even be true in their eyes, but nothing that affects their ability to do their jobs to such a degree could ever be truly good. 

Vakarian clears his throat, bringing Nihlus attention back to the situation at hand. "Are you sure you can walk with that?" he nods at Horados's injury.

"It's not that bad, I patched myself up and when the salarian back at camp is done with me I'll be as good as new. Takes more than this to withdraw me from duty."

Nihlus can't help the amused undertone in both of his voices. "I've noticed." Horados is the same age as himself, yet in a considerably lower citizen tier. He does a good job though, and knows his limits, completely aware of his place in the hierarchy and content with it. Something Nihlus like most other turians has utmost respect for. 

"Did you?" Horados laughs and picks his helmet up from the ground. "You don't mind if I don't wear it, do you? It's a bit hard to breathe."

"Go ahead, it's not like we're still under fire."

"So I could take mine off, too?" Vakarian seems to be caught of guard. It's a stupid question and Nihlus doesn't bother to even answer.

Ever-helpful Horados replies in Nihlus stead. "Of course, don't worry. I just wasn't too sure of the situation since you are still wearing your buckets. Nihlus doesn't take his off in the field out of principle, but there is no real need for it outside of combat. Were you waiting for him to give you the okay?"

Now it's Garrus who isn't replying. The red marked turian chuckles and finally Garrus presses out another "I guess." Probably embarrassed he didn't figure that out on his own, despite his two years of military service. 

"Want me to help you take yours off? I mean you have your hands a little full there and it's still about 3 hours before we're back, and I guess you already know it can get pretty stuffy in there." another smirk forms on the others face as he pictures the young man next to him conscientiously enduring the confinement of a helmet whenever he was on duty, even if it was simply standing guard, or a shift in the watchtower.

Nihlus can't help but smile to himself when he notices that Vakarian might have actually unconsciously motivated some of his comrades to wear the protective headgear more often during mundane tasks.

"You think your human will make it?" Horados asks as he loosens the seal of Vakarian's helmet.

"I'm pretty sure it will. I just hit the right shoulder." again Nihlus feels the overwhelming desire to knuckle the kid in the head. They had this discussion just an hour ago.

"Nice." Horados clicks his tongue in approval and Nihlus lets out an exhausted groan the same moment Vakarian's helmet comes off prompting the younger one to sigh in relieve.

Idiots, both of them. Highly capable, likable idiots. Probably wouldn't hurt to indulge them now. "He took out two of them in short succession, took him only seconds, he pretty much picked them off once their biotic got tired and sloppy. I tell you if that fourth one wasn't a biotic he would have taken them all early on and you wouldn't have to leave part of your ribs behind."

"Ha, ha. All ribs intact thank you." Horados notices the teasing intention behind Nihlus words, barely paying intention to the way Vakarian's chest swells with pride hearing his mentors praise. With his helmet in one hand the smug expression that's moving his face plates is hard to miss though.

"I'm just checking." Nihlus shrugs, purposefully ignoring the unasked question for details the youngster would have liked to put out there. 

Again Horados jumps in where Nihlus wouldn't. "I take it Kryik took a support role and let you snipe them then?"

Vakarian gives him a curd not, mandibles twitching with a hint of excitement just from the memory of it. "I took them from the tip of the spear. The one leading their team ran up front and I got him clear through the back of his head, he probably didn't feel a thing, very turiane if you ask me.", another appreciative nod from Horados. "After he went down the other 3 panicked just as I thought, and went down rather easy. This one was last, it kind of threw me off that it wouldn't rush to help when it heard the biotic call it, I mean humans are rather social, right? What was the name again."

"Shepard." Nihlus offers and tries not to remember that he shot that biotic three times in the back before it fell, screaming. It had still gurgled that name as it coughed the blood slowly filling it's lungs. He didn't have to finish it off. It would have died within minutes anyway, it fought well though, deserved a quick end. Kept his team alive longer than Nihlus thought possible. But the way it screamed the others name, the expression on the brown, half covered, blood smeared face will probably haunt him a few more days.

"Right, Shepard. The Shepard human seemed rational enough to know that someone would be waiting with it's comrade and sidestepped the trap I had almost set. It completely left my field of vision for a few minutes. I have to admit I probably wouldn't have found it on my own."

"Which is why _I_ am here." Nihlus sighs and Horados grins knowingly, showing off most of the 14 long thin teeth. 

"Anyway, it was so concentrated on keeping Nihlus at bay it left its back wide open. I really could have done anything."

"So why not kill it?" Horados inquires, a question Nihlus would like to see answered himself but knows all too well won't be answered honestly.

Vakarian shrugs noncommittally. "I had a feeling about this one."

"Ahh." Horados seems content with the answer, but Nihlus can't really let the young man get away with that just yet.

"A feeling it would send you tumbling backwards and squawking like a spooked pyjack." he still needs to make the kid feel the weight of that stupid decision. He has to jibe a bit.

"I didn't squawk! And it pulled _you_ down too." he exclaims defensively, letting go of the human momentarily to gesticulate, barely catching it before he realizes his mistake and it can slip down his shoulder. For a second there Vakarian clutches to it's thighs as his thoughts get back into order and appears to be visually exhausted. The human has to be heavy, and after this excruciatingly long, wild chase through terrain that seems to be made for short-legged, sturdy animals like juxtoa he understands the feeling. 

To be tall and bi-pedal surely slowed them down a good deal. Humans are a bit smaller and definitely less top heavy, granting them a better sense of balance in the terrain. And to top it off they walk on the whole foot, in Nihlus imagination that gave them a stronger stand on the muddy ground. Considering their own disadvantages it spoke for his skill that they still caught up to the humans and did their job. Okay, especially in the beginning they got constantly caught in the underbrush and all three were skidding around and falling often enough to be shame inducing. Cleaning their armor after trading shifts will be no fun. He almost hopes the other teams had similar problems to feel better about his own failings at conquering the marshy soil.

"So... why is it still in full armor?" Horados sounds like he wanted to ask that for quite some time now. Nihlus can't help but laugh, finding the answer amusing enough to take his mind off of more important things, like analyzing his performance for his report.

"Because Vakarian is too scared to strip it."

"I'm not scared." the younger one grunts, obviously already coming to terms with the fact that Nihlus plans to harass him with everything concerning his handling of the human for disobeying a direct order.

"You are aware that half of the weight on your shoulder is armor, yes?" Horados chimes back in and Vakarian replies something back to the turian in red tattoos that is so distorted by a quiet snarl and the effort to not be disrespectful that Horados snorts a laugh.

"HAH!- Ow-fuck... Sorry, I didn't quite catch that, heh, punk." the older one presses his hand back on his wound, laughing appears to put more strain on the seemingly still painful hole in his side.

"Yes. I am aware." Vakarian's mandibles barely move as he talks, voice strained. 

Nihlus unconsciously eyes the the punctures in Horados armor. It seems his friend managed to stop the bleeding relatively fast after he was left behind, but there is just no knowing how much internal bleeding there might have been in the two hours it took them to come back for him, or for how much longer Horados can actually hold out before his wound would become a critical issue. 

Another, less observing, glance is directed at Vakarian and his human. They still have to get through five hours of constant movement to get back, considering that with the luggage and an injured man they wouldn't be able to run like they did on the way here. 4 hours total during a hunt, at least 6 hours on the way back. Considering Horados positive attitude he probably made an error in his math, expecting them to make it back as fast as they got here, something that's rather typical for him, his mathematical screw ups. All ways included this will have been a ten hour hunt. That is a whole day just to kill a small groups of humans. 

By all means Nihlus can imagine a few things he'd rather spend his time on if he had a choice.  
"Have it your way Vakarian, but I won't hear you complain about how heavy it is even once, understood?"

The hotheaded rookie avoids eye contact with Nihlus visor, putting on an almost defiant expression that Nihlus would have missed if Vakarian would have still worn his helmet, might have even taken it for submissive behavior. 

"Did I make myself clear?" he asks more emphatically, causing Horados to roll his eyes at him shake his head ever so slightly, but Nihlus doesn't acknowledge his friends quiet protest. He won't lend any credibility to the reasons his lower ranked comrade in arms might have by opening the subject for discussion. Horados already knows that Nihlus isn't such a stickler for rules and correct etiquette between citizen tears himself, which probably makes it a little ridiculous to watch Nihlus try to fill the role of a proper mentor.

Vakarian lets out a long sigh before slightly straitening his back and answering in a more acceptable tone. "Yes, Sir." before shifting the humans weight to get a little more comfortable with it.

"Good. I suggest we keep moving then, otherwise we might not make it before 'the salarian' gets the chance to patch anything up." his attention shifts back to Horados who first adressed their medic by race. Kind of tasteless. "You do know his name, don't you?" The other two nod and try to pick up their speed, not that that was what Nihlus meant, but he won't tell them to hold back as long as they think they can still go.

"You are aware that salarian names are insanely long?" he puffs out and now Nihlus actually smiles behind the helmet.

"So you don't. That's disappointing. I always thought you like salarians?"

"Those are two different matters." Horados winces and sucks in a sharp breath but immediately tries to cover up for it. "For your information, yes, my mate is a salarian but we live on Palavan. Salarian names go 'Homeworld, Nation, City, District, Clan Name, Given Name', and I know our doc calls himself Yinok but don't ask which part of his name that is." Horados offers, not too sure of it himself. 

"I think his Clan name." Nihlus muses and turns his head to his pupil, curious to see how well the youngster knows his way around the people in their camp. Vakarian quickly catches up on his cue and takes a deep breath.

"Sur'Kesh, Felan, Hurrip, Fudok, Yinok, Naenik. "

"Show off!" Horados whines and there is a happy little twitch in the younger ones mandibles. 

"I'm impressed." Nihlus doesn't sound it though. Show off, indeed.

"Laevitis spends so much time with the guy it would be weird if I didn't know the name by now." Vakarian explains, yet it doesn't clear up anything. So what if his fellow rookie spends a lot of time in the infirmary? 

"And?" Horados inquires making clear his curiosity was picked, and Nihlus rolls his eyes.

"Nothing. Laevitis talks to himself a lot, and what little space we have, we have to share. There isn't much more too it." he shrugs.

"Not _much_ , but there is a bit?"

"Horados." Nihlus interrupts and the turian in red tattoos groans in annoyance.

"Do you guys have any idea how many episodes of 'Betrayed by Thunder' I missed since we got here? I need my drama fiiiiix..." Horados complains, blood loss and pain slowly tearing on his usually patient attitude.

"You got shot, shouldn't that be drama enough?" Vakarian laughs in a bark and readjusts the human on his shoulder yet again, obviously uncomfortable with the way its armor pokes him.

"No need to remind _me_ , this gaping hole here is a little hard to forget." Horados laughs, shallow and nervous, careful not to actually express amusement that could disturb his already painful gash. "Not the kind of drama I was talking about, I'd rather follow an emotionally exhausting plot than physically torture myself and struggle to stay conscious."

And there are still five more hours of walking left, Nihlus thinks to himself as he eyes up his slightly swaying friend. Maybe he should worry. His eyes wander to the Shepard human hanging half over his pupils tired back. It doesn't make any sense, but if Horados suffers irreparable damage Nihlus will make sure the alien soldier will pay. And in case his friend won't make it back, well... 

Nihlus shakes his head, refusing to continue his dark line of thought. Horados will be fine. He's one tough son of Nathak and survived worse. Even in old times with less sophisticated methods and medics barely half as well educated as they are today, the chances for a soldier with Horados wounds wouldn't have been too bad. He'll be fine.  
A small voice in the back of his head reminds him that back then doctors were always available on the field asap, and that severely injured individuals could get evacuated out of hot-zones as well.

...

Maybe Nihlus really should try to carry his fellow soldier.

 

**

 

Finally the villages watchtower comes into sight over the treetops. It can't be too old, given the humans relatively short history of space travel, but it definitely has a rather rustic vibe to it. A rushed and improvised solution, it was probably only meant to be used to keep an eye out for the indigenous wildlife. A structure made up of nothing more than four small, badly maintained cube units stacked on top of each other, and crowned by a roofed balcony. It's far from pretty yet proves to be a rather bright sight after their long march. 

The dense foggy forest thins out and starts to reveal the for the farmland of the colony typical pale purple meadows, and muddy soil slowly intergrades with a more solid, pebbly pathway, which presents a massive relief for all 3 of the returning turians.

It's been a long walk back, especially for Nihlus' pupil who is still hauling his human loading, and the by now severely weakened Horados. His joking tone and encouraging banter with their hotheaded youngster virtually stopped when he first tripped over his own feet. He tried to make light of it, blaming the slick ground, but Nihlus and Vakarian both know that these things only influence someones balance at higher speeds. These first signs of lightheadedness were a dead giveaway that his bleeding had indeed continued internally. Something fairly obvious considering a human blew a hole in his side with a fucking shotgun. 

"Almost there, buddy." Nihlus mumbles, trying his best not to cause Horados too much pain as he supports him down the slope towards the tower and the village behind.

The red tattooed turian returns the comment with barely more than a tired smile. "...Buddy? Why so friendly, you make it sound like I'm dying... heh." The lack of liveliness is surely concerning.

"You might." Nihlus continues, grim uncertainty heavy in his subvocals.

"So pessimistic." Horados replies quietly and sighs. Maybe Nihlus shouldn't have said that. He should probably say something to lift the mood now. 

"... did you just imply I'm only nice when I suspect someone to be on the brink of death?"

"Uhh..." Spirits, he really sucks at this. Horados almost looks a little intimidated, unsure how seriously he should take it. Way to go, Nihlus. You're the life of every party.

"I was joking." The young spitfuck to his right coughs to hide his amusement. "Can it, Vakarian, or I'll give myself a good reason to be nice to _you_."

That comment draws a laugh and quite the coughing fit out of Horados, bad enough to make Nihlus think the other one might loose a mandible from it. 

"GARRUS!" all three of them look up to see a disgruntled young turian shake his fist at Vakarian who in turn immediately starts to grin, pleased with the fact that his friend Albiso has watchtower duty while he got to go out to hunt down alliance soldiers. 

"CANA!" Horados winces at the sudden loud noise close to his head, but Vakarian doesn't even take notice. 

Cana Albiso is already in the process of climbing down the ladder on the towers side when the other soldier stuck in the unimpressive tower grabs him at the crest of his armor and pulls him back into position. 

Visibly upset about the fact that he is still on duty the young hothead settles back down before yelling back down to the returning three. "GARRUS, I EXPECT A FULL REPORT LAter--- ... IS THAT A HUMAN!?"

"IT IS! JEALOUS?" Vakarian yells back up as he slowly closes in on the tower and gives the motionless luggage an slap on the rear, probably for some kind of emphasis. Crude, but maybe it's one of those new teenage things. Vakarian has to know that Albiso must be burning his brain to a crisp with glares of covetousness. Albiso has a rather unnatural interest in everything human.

"YES! HOW DARE YOU! IS IT ALIVE??" 

"DUH! OBVIOUSLY! DON'T BE STUPID!" Once again Nihlus can almost hear the switch be flipped in both of their inexperienced little heads. They really don't bring out the best of each other.

"YOU'RE A SALARIAN CLOAKA! GO DIE THRICE, GARRUS VAKARIAN!" It's obvious that in this moment Albiso truly means it. Vakarian does nothing but laugh at the others rage though, not taking it seriously and simply gloating.

Though it is all fun an games between them as long as they are not actually under fire, right now there is no room for Albiso to joke. They both know that today Vakarian has outdone him by pure chance. It could have been either of them fulfilling this objective with their mentor of the day. Both young men are terribly eager to prove and throw themselves in firefights, and the current mission provided practically none up to this day. 

"YOU HAVE TO TOUCH THE HEAD! THE HEAD!!" Albiso continues, anger suddenly slipping slightly into something different. He leans over the rusty looking rail as far as he can without falling, desperate to catch a glimpse of the human. Just like Vakarian earlier he acts almost as if this is the first living human he sees.

"WHAT? And why would I do that?" they pass the tower, and the village is now clearly visible down hill. Horados starts to lean heavier onto Nihlus for support, more willing to admit weakness with treatment in sight. Horados will make it, that much is clear. He'll be unable to run or lift anything heavy for a while, but he'll get through this. Nihlus isn't sure he can say the same for the human though. The last time he made Vakarian check it's pulse it was rather steady, but very weak.

"DUH! DON'T BE STUPID! Because you have to describe the hair to me! IN DETAIL, obviously!" Albiso now outright whines "What it looks like close up! FEELS LIKE BETWEEN YOUR FIN-" the turian next to him pulls the youngster back, probably worried the idiot might fall with how far he leans over the rail.

"Is Horados okay down there?" the older one requests. His voice identifies him unmistakeably as Tulcus Simpraka. His funny mixture of very high and very low vocals that never quite seem to be able to decide which should be the subvocal is quite unique. That's about the only thing him that Nihlus remembers him by though. A pretty unimpressive forgettable fellow.

"He's fine! You better worry about that loud incendiary of yours!" Nihlus yells back up while he gives Vakarian an insistent push, get the kid moving again before he and Albiso have the chance to get stupid ideas.

"Cana makes no trouble at all as long as you can keep Vakarian in check! Yours ain't no better than mine, you realize that, right?"

"Sorry for that!" Vakarian falls in their blossoming conversation with a laugh, not sounding sorry at all, just before Nihlus can tell Simpraka where he can put his Cana for all he cares. 

"The fuck, Garrus, why are _YOU_ sorry? _I'M _the one with the _brain_ out of the two o-"__

__"YOU WISH!" Vakarian interrupts Albiso and the smugness of his success today gives the young man who is shouldering his human trophy more fire than Nihlus thinks is good for him._ _

__"NO _YOU_ WISH!" _ _

__Spirits, they don't intend to really do this now, do they?? He better interrupt them now before it gets embarrassing._ _

__"NO YOU WI- OW!" Vakarian almost topples over, exhausted and surprised. He has to drop the human to not just land face first on the ground with the grace of a spaced vorcha. Nihlus almost feels a little bad, he didn't mean to push his pupil so hard, but they have an injured man with them and a prisoner that they dragged around for nothing if it doesn't receive treatment soon._ _

__"SPIRITS!!" Albiso panics in the little space they have up there, nervously jumping. "IS IT ALRIGHT? DID YOU HURT IT? FUCKING CLUTZ! PICK IT UP!" he seems to consider to try and get past Simpraka to take care of the human himself, and finally Nihlus has it with their tomfoolery._ _

__"Of course he hurt it, HE SHOT IT, Albiso! Now shut up before I come up there and tape your mandibles against your faceplates!" not that Nihlus has any tape on his person, but he would find a way if he had to. He's crafty like that. He thinks. The moment these two young men catch sight of each other all respect for their surroundings is thrown out of the metaphorical airlock. It's been like that from day one._ _

__"SEE YOU LATER, CANA!" Vakarian belts out, and lifts one of the limp human arms to wave it at his friend, causing Albiso's jaw to drop and squawk unintelligible. The smug young man in blue tattoos flaps his mandibles wide at his defeated counterpart, showing teeth, then proceeds to pick up his dead weight of choice and tries to shoulder it somewhat comfortably._ _

__"LATER." Albiso replies, a pang of pain in his voice as the envy eats him up. Simpraka pats his shoulder and tries to calm his 'burden of the day'. In the end Albiso isn't irreverent enough to continue their banter in front of Nihlus, and gives Vakarian one more reason to look like the Varren that swallowed the Pyjack. A classic case of "My mentor is stronger than yours." combined with the fact that he holds what Albiso wants so badly._ _

__"Go." Nihlus commands the younger one, stern enough for Vakarian to try and pick the tempo up a little, despite obvious exhaustion. That or he is aware that a brooding Albiso attempts to find a way to stare holes into his neck plates with pure willpower, and tries to show off one last time before he leaves the other ones field of vision._ _

__From there it is only about 10 minutes before they finally reach the edge of the village and some of the others assigned to this mission see them._ _

__Two of Horados closer friends, that currently fix and modify a human antenna on a rooftop that was damaged during the attack to enhance their signal, drop everything once they realize what's going on, and rush to pick him up. Nobody nearby attempts to stop the engineers, it's not like the task is too important to be interrupted for 10 minutes.  
Seeing as the soldiers standing guard seem rather relaxed Nihlus can already guess his team took the longest to return and the human scouts are not a problem anymore._ _

__"Amuter! Fuck- Fuck humans! Can you- Are you-?" The one first by Horados side quickly switches places with Nihlus forcing his friend to lean onto him to walk. Nihlus just understands half of Horados reply, something along the lines of "It could be worse." before the other engineer arrives and drowns his injured friend out._ _

__With a sigh Nihlus turns in the other direction, already sure where his commander would be, beckoning Vakarian to follow him. Horados is taken care of and he still has enough time to check in on him when things quiet down, after he gives up his report. They don't make it far before they run into the last two rookies. And other than Albiso, Lupilinus and Laevitis know a busy turian when they see one._ _

__Lupilinus' right mandible twitches into a clinical smirk as they walk by, which Vakarian only acknowledges with a barely visible nod of his own. Knowing the team that the girl hunted with it is rather easy to guess she brought back a human of her own. Laevitis, timid as always, can't do anything but stare in awe at his friend, brow plates raised and mandibles twitching, itching with questions he holds back._ _

__Lupilinus is a rather task oriented young woman, hard to distract and blessed with a cold demeanor that discourages foolishness, Laevitis is a pitiful boy if nothing else. Almost 18 and the oldest of the rookies, he isn't very happy in the military. He definitely is better suited for simple public service, why he decided against it and why he wasn't reassigned during orientation is beyond Nihlus. While military service isn't optional, there are branches other than active duty, all of which better suited to his abilities in Nihlus opinion._ _

__From the corner of his eye Nihlus sees how Vakarian tries to give the other two silent signs without dropping the human._ _

__"Kryik!" his attention shifts to a massive turian on his left, Oppitus Poscus, who approaches him fast. "Commander Felpanus is waiting for you." He barely even looks at Nihlus pupil before calling in one of the soldiers passing by._ _

__"Take Vakarian and the prisoner to Famion. Vakarian, after that you take a break." Poscus is an imposing figure in more than one way. He will make it far some day. Vakarian doesn't move though, despite being clearly uncomfortable and wanting to get rid of the heavy human._ _

__Nihlus takes a few slow breaths, settling into the feeling of being back in camp for a second before reassuring the younger one. "Well done, get something to eat and some sleep. I'll come to look after you later. They nailed you good a few times, I better make sure my favorite rookie stays in fighting shape." he sends him off with a dismissive wave of his hand. Poscus really likes to act important, but here he has nothing more and nothing less to say than Nihlus, or Numetis Bellilius. The three of them stand directly under their commander, each trusted with their own task to fulfill._ _

__"I- ... Yes. Of course." Vakarian finally deems it appropriate to excuse himself and follows the lead of the random turian Poscus picked for his escort._ _

__Nihlus signs for Poscus to take the lead and they make their way towards the most stressful task of all. Reporting back to Commander Casius Felpanus._ _

__"How did the other two teams do?" Nihlus breaks the silence between them and Poscus brow plates furrow in barely contained anger._ _

__"Six dead, more injured, two MIA."_ _

__"Who?"_ _

__"One dead one missing on Famion's team, she takes it personal, won't let anyone else guard the human Papcolus's team brought back. One missing on his team, too. The rest is from the initial attack. You got to give it to the humans. Not bad for an improvisation." he begrudgingly admits._ _

__"Objective completed?" Nihlus inquires carefully, aware that Poscus takes the loss of people more serious than anyone here, Nihlus himself included._ _

__"Since you didn't start cursing at me yet, yes, I'd say all teams did their damn jobs. The alliance soldiers are dead and didn't get out of communication lock down. Felpanus will chew us out anyway, we could have been better prepared. That's what happens when you think your assignment is too easy, you start to allow blind spots. We fucked up, Nihlus. Primarily me, but none of us took this serious. 'Turian superiority', it's easy to forget that that applies to us on the great scale of things, we are still mortal, we all make mistakes." Poscus rubs the knuckles of one hand over the triangular plate of his forehead. The headache he has is probably massive. "The first grenade blew Vovius legs clean off. And he's still alive. Kryik, he's not even the one with the worst injuries, do you know how lucky you are that- ... Sorry, that was insensitive." he sighs and gives Nihlus a chance to reply, which he doesn't use right away. There is not much he can say about it._ _

__"Part of the job, Poscus. The platoon will remember their fallen, and we'll honor their sacrifice."_ _

__"Stating the obvious, as usual. I just hope it'll be worth it, seems so useless sometimes, you know. Not being at the front and doing... Whatever _this_ is instead. Doesn't feel like I#m of much use to our people here. Never was much of an organizer." While Nihlus was out with his team, Poscus had to manage the mayhem the humans caused. The big guy knows every turian stationed here by full name. He might not be able to communicate it well, but he cares for every single person in this unit. "We lost some good people."_ _

__"Poscus..." Nihlus starts but immediately trails off. Realizing he hardly knows half of the men in any way. Except for the young recruits and their rotating set of instructors maybe two or three more by name and name only. The rest are easily interchangeable faces in his mind. Cogs in the machine that is the hierarchy. His words of sympathy would be empty and Poscus would know it._ _

__"At first one of our guys missing in action reported back via omnitool, got the alien vermin but they couldn't move, could barely talk... Lost contact with him shortly after. Famion had no chance but to leave him behind, had to carry Laevitis."_ _

__"Really? I just saw him, the kid looked fine to me."_ _

__"Yinok. Thank the galaxy for salarian medics. If Famion wouldn't have reacted so quickly Laevitis might not have made it. And who knows whether Indanus and Stratis are still alive anyway. At least she saved _someone._ Besides, we already have people out there looking for our guys." he takes a deep breath, calms himself. Or so Nihlus thinks until- "RAAAAAAAAAAAH! FUCK!!!"_ _

__A passerby jumps at the sudden raise of Poscus voice. When a turian as unusually large as Poscus makes noise, it is sure to catch attention. Even Nihlus can't deny that this deep, rage-driven yell actually just scared him. Poscus, really is unusually big, so much that Nihlus heard Cana and Vakarian muse whether there might be some Krogan in him. A ridiculous notion, really, but the longer one looks at Poscus the more plausible it feels. But despite everything Nihlus gets the impression the big guy is not violent by nature, yet can't help but alarm anyone in his presence with mentioned presence alone. The filigree, dark brown tattoos on his bright white face that draw an almost constant scowl on his already unfortunate features don't help with that. And the yelling doesn't help either._ _

__"Uh..." seriously how is he supposed to reply to such an outburst though?_ _

__"Humans." Poscus grunts, and the overall atmosphere prevents Nihlus from pointing a few things out. Like for example the execution of unarmed human civilians that's been going on here for weeks now. Up to this day the big turian next to him had felt righteous pity for them, now though... Nihlus isn't sure he wants to ask._ _

__Like any other turian Poscus didn't mind to kill in a firefight. Kill for the cause, defend something. His own life, the hierarchy, galactic peace. Victory, at any cost. But what is happening here doesn't feel right. It has nothing to do with the war itself. It's slaughter, and everyone knows it. And with the exception of a few revenge driven individuals every soldier here loaths himself a little more with every new, unsuspecting village they take. Sure, the mission objective might be noble and this is an efficient and overall safe way to go about it, but that doesn't make the job any easier on the mind._ _

__Faced with exclusively soft targets it's just so easy to forget that they have a good purpose for being here. After today’s events most of the people here will feel reminded of it though. A grim catalyst in the back of their heads. Still. The loss of 8 turians and a few more injured hardly justifies anything happening here. The body count on the humans side is hard to swallow._ _

__Accepting it becomes only harder after he reminds himself of the fine details of their mission. This small farming world was picked specifically for its remote location and insignificance to the alliance forces. An isolated colony. Nobody out there is waiting for a reply from these people, and the radiation of the systems sun makes it almost impossible to contact anyone without sending unmanned messenger drones anyway, even for the hierarchy which contrary to humans has access to the extranet. The whole colony would be annihilated before anyone would even start to think something might be wrong._ _

__And all this scheming and murdering just because-_ _

__"I know what you're thinking, and you're wrong." Poscus interrupts his colleagues train of thought. He doesn't bother to hide his irritation. In return Nihlus doesn't hold back on the sarcasm._ _

__"Of course you do. Remind me, what am I thinking again?"_ _

__"It's not that I hate them all, just the alliance." he snarls and jogs the last few steps to a big container home-unit that serves as Commander Felpanus current short-term center of command._ _

__"Let's agree on that." Nihlus sighs, stops Poscus from entering as they reach the building. "Is Bellilius here already?"_ _

__"Probably. Though I really wish we could do this without him."_ _

__Nihlus can't help the bitter expression settling on his face as he agrees on that as well. "He can't help it. He's one of many who lost a lot by the hands of humans."_ _

__"Doesn't make him any easier to deal with. If Felpanus doesn't reign him in this time, _I will._ " Poscus slides the door open with more force then would be needed and ignoring the opening automatic, before awkwardly maneuvering through the low doors humans seem to favor so much. He's getting stuck in the mindset of taking responsibility for each and everyone’s action yet again, which is worrisome. _ _

__He's trying to bite off more than he can chew, and should he choke his workload would be divided between Nihlus and Bellilius. That would put Nihlus in a rather awkward position. Right now he can afford not to be too opinionated, with Poscus standing up for what is right, and Bellilius pushing for what is smart. It's easy to see why Felpanus put the three of them into positions of power, they complement each other in ability.  
If Poscus becomes too involved though... Nihlus would be stuck to either fight Bellilius anti human policy and try to keep their soldiers hands and consciousness as clean as possible, or fall in line and basically commit war crimes that, despite getting the job done most efficiently and aid the war effort, would taint the record of the platoon if made public._ _

__It's probably in his best interest to make sure that Poscus doesn't lose his temper with Bellilius, at least not in front of their Commander._ _

__Nihlus closes his eyes and takes one last deep breath before he has to deal with military politics and a bunch of highly skilled jerks, all of which think their way is the best one to follow. Which probably includes himself. He admittedly has his own ideas of what to do from here on out, and how to deal with the human threat on this farm world._ _

__Including their prisoners._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we finally have the stage set for Garrus Pov Chapter and first real interaction with Shepard. A deeper view into the war effort, the mission of Garrus' unit, and time to develope relationships.
> 
> Sorry, I know reading about all these OCs isn't interesting, but I really don't like empty worlds where only the main characters have any significance and everyone else is boring filler or evil. I don't know how I would create an interesting story like that. I hope things get better when I add pictures of everyone into the next chapter, that should help to keep everyone apart. And don't get too attached, I mean in a way everyone is disposable. I haven't decided how this thing will end, and if one or more main characters die in the end. As for the support roles and villains, both could end up being responsible for our main casts death or survival, and I already know who of them dies, who will become more important in later chapters, and that stuff.
> 
> Oh yes, and which side characters feature is depending on whose character pov we are reading. In Garrus Chapters we will always have at least one instructor (changes daily), and usually the other three rookies, Lupilinus, Leavitis, and his buddy Albiso. Love him or hate him but Cana Albiso is a lot in Garrus Pov chapters, simply because Cana's obsession with humans will keep Garrus focused on Shepard, and because Cana messes with Garrus levelheadednes and makes him more daring. Their rivalry is story relevant to a point. 
> 
> Now to Nihlus, the star of this chapter. Nihlus is a little older, I'd say mid-thirties, he has things mostly figured out for himself. He has a place in society, and prospects for his future. He gets sent back and forth between different units in his platoon, and sometimes even switches platoons under orders from his mentor Saren. He is pretty much Saren's agent, and he trusts him. He has his opinions, and even though he is convinced he doesn't set things in stone easily. He's more flexible than he appears, but thanks to his constant switching of units and teams he isn't very sociable. On shore leave he gets to make up for that a bit, but that doesn't really help him with his fellow soldiers, who often think he is unpersonal and lacks teamspirit. Which sucks, because when you get to know him he has nice humor (he's not funny though, he laughs about jokes when he hears them but he is rarely the one to make others laugh), and is a rather good bro. I know this chapter doesn't show it much, but he can even be childish (outside of the job), though I guess the way he teases Garrus hints a little at that. Gosh, I'm looking forward to more Nihlus chapters. Nihlus chapters will feature less rookies and more Poscus, Bellilius, and Commander Felpanus. And obviously if you want to hear more about the political situation, the great sceme, and whats goign on with the humans, you gotta vote for Nihlus chapters. Garrus won't get that information, and Shepard chapters, despite driving relationships forward and containing a lot of gore and psycho shit, are the least informative ones when it comes to the outside world.
> 
> Keep in Mind, after garrus chapters the readers are supposed to tell me what Pov they want next. So again for easy understanding. While all Nihlus Garrus and Shepard will always interact with each other, you will always miss out on some events somewhere and lose the information of what happened there. The next time you get another Pov the character will probably sum up what happened while we followed another pov at some point, but not necessarily and probably not in detail. Also, I'll probably make it a rule that we can't have the same Pov twice in a row, so after the Garrus chapter you vote for Nihlus or Shepard. That being said:  
> Shepard chapters are gory, psychological fuckfestivals, she gets no information about what's going on outside, but relationships advance. Though not necessarily the way you'd expect/want. You will go blind into the next chapter.  
> Nihlus chapters are politcal, a lot of information about the war, about the mission, about plans. You get a lot of exposure and a good idea of what will happen next. You're anything but blind.  
> Garrus chapters are social. They are a good mix of both worlds. Garrus interacts a lot with other turians, but gets a lot of rather tedius tasks. In stark contrast to Shepard and Nihlus, he sees everything, but is left in the dark.
> 
>  
> 
> Again, sorry for not proofreading this and not finishing the picture before uploading. I hope I see you next time.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, as you probably already noticed this is not effectively proofread. I 'ain't no native speaker', so I apologize for every crime against good grammar and articulate speach I commited. Unfortunately I can't find all of my own errors without help just yet.  
> Also this is the first time I wrote something in third person, and it feels increadibly weird. I know how topull people in in second person, make them cringe and cry and throw their phone against the wall, but third person? Uh.... Please bear with me as I figure out how to make this an okay read.
> 
> Next chapter is Nihlus pov, after that Garrus, and after that the readers decide which pov they want next.
> 
> I'd be increadibly thankful for any kind of feedback, and hope you don't feel like this was a waste of time.


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